Once a Bride by Shari Anton Page A

stool near the hearth where the hapless monk sulked, she shot him a glare that consigned him to Hades.
    Marcus leaned forward, the gleam in his eyes hinting of mischief. “How long do you think the good monk will remain silent when Kenworth gets hold of him?”
    Simon huffed. “Not long at all. The earl will not hesitate to use harsher measures than Lady Eloise to pry him open.”
    Roland silently agreed, and truly didn’t want to think about what tortures Kenworth might devise for the reticent monk should Sir John remain missing.
    Indeed, he wished he could close the gates to keep the earl outside of Lelleford. Kenworth was going to be unbearable whether he succeeded in his search for Sir John or not, either gloating or glowering.
    And, damn, as Roland saw his duty, he’d have to protect the monk from Kenworth, just as he’d drawn a sword to stand beside Simon, and just as he’d guarded Eloise’s door to ensure the lady’s safety.
    For a man used to being responsible for only himself, he’d certainly taken several others under his wing of late. Timothy. Eloise. The monk. The entire populace of Lelleford.
    A daunting thought.
    A smile eased across Marcus’s mouth. “Brother Walter will be sorry he left the safety of the dung heap. I still do not understand why he thought he could hide from us in the stable.” His elbow nudged Simon. “Even you would have laughed at the sight of him when we dragged him out of the heap.”
    While Roland and Marcus both chuckled, Simon allowed only the corner of his mouth to twitch.
    On his first visit to Lelleford, Roland had dubbed these two Marcus the Jester and Simon the Serious. For many years both had loyally served Sir John Hamelin, a lesser baron who held enough land to support several knights in fine style.
    This charge of treason affected the knights as much as it did John. If judged guilty, John would hang and the king would grant possession of Lelleford to a favorite. Whether a knight was allowed to remain at Lelleford depended upon the new holder’s whim, and the knight’s personal feeling on swearing fealty to the new lord.
    Roland took a sip of ale and tried not to covet what Sir John Hamelin might lose. “What bothers me is why the monk felt compelled to hide to begin with. He is most adamant about speaking to John.”
    Simon rubbed his chin. “As he was yesterday. For a usually quiet man, he has done a lot of wailing and thrashing about of late.”
    “Perhaps we should try to find out what he knows before Kenworth gets back.”
    Simon rose off the bench. “Just what I was thinking,” he muttered, then headed for the hearth, with Roland and Marcus close behind.
    Simon crossed his arms and hovered above the seated monk, an intimidating stance the monk could not ignore.
    “ ’Tis most probable Kenworth will not find Sir John,” Simon stated, “and will return in a foul mood. For all of our sakes, I believe you should reveal to us what you know.”
    The monk looked up at Simon with sad eyes. “Nay. Sir John must decide what he wishes you to know of his affairs. I will not break trust with him for either you or the earl.”
    Roland heard the rustle of Eloise’s silk skirts as she came to stand beside him.
    “You have already broken my father’s trust.” Eloise’s accusation caused Brother Walter to blink. “ ’Tis my opinion the wound to your head resulted from an argument between you and my father, not an unfortunate mishap.”
    The monk quietly answered, “ ’Tis true, milady, that your father and I exchanged harsh words, but you may be assured my wound is not of his doing. Had I not suffered, as you put it, an unfortunate mishap, his lordship might not …” He shook his head. “I can say no more.”
    The hall’s doors opened and Kenworth strode in, followed by several of Lelleford’s knights. His mighty scowl revealed the result of his search for Sir John. Roland wasn’t sure the tracker’s failure to locate their prey was good or not.
    In